


when to say when (only if it's enough)

by sunnylittledragon



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blake's a grown tired woman, F/F, Marines AU but not really, Yang is patient, just something to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:34:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24281407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunnylittledragon/pseuds/sunnylittledragon
Summary: Yang’s on leave for two weeks, flying out soon, and it’s quick, easy, no strings attached fun. Blake’s just out of a break-up –albeit a messy one but she’s free, a little lost, and a lot horny, and what Yang’s offering sounds like just about all she can manage right now.Marines AU
Relationships: Blake Belladonna/Yang Xiao Long
Comments: 23
Kudos: 148





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this because I've been itching to write and to see if I still understand how to formulate a sentence and make words do stuff.

She meets Yang on leave. She’s cocky and ballsy, and when she asks Blake for her number, she finds herself charmed just enough to say yes. 

Yang’s on leave for two weeks, flying out soon, and it’s quick, easy, no strings attached fun. Blake’s just out of a break-up –albeit a messy one but she’s free, a little lost, and a lot horny, and what Yang’s offering sounds like just about all she can manage right now. 

Yang says she’s staying at her father’s house, looks a little embarrassed when she mentions it ( _No point in paying for an empty apartment_ _,_ _yeah?_ ) but Blake doesn’t much mind, thinks it makes sense even, probably easier for them both. She doesn’t think anything much when she invites Yang back to her place. 

Yang stays for three days, eating Blake’s cheap microwavable food and picking movies through her Netflix account on her shitty TV. Blake doesn’t mean to let Yang stay so long. She doesn’t know Yang like _that_ after all. But her laugh is loud, and her lilac eyes are crazy beautiful, and she has Monday off so she’s feeling charitable. 

They have messy, fumbling, unusually rough (for her)sex on pretty much every flat surface in her apartment. 

For three days she walks around in not much more than an overly large t-shirt, and Yang’s boxer shorts, sometimes. 

At one point Yang tries to fuck her in the shower and it doesn’t go that well, because her shower is actually kind of small, her water pressure is really shitty, and there’s not enough traction on the floor or the wall for Yang to get steady enough to build up a good rhythm. It’s a little awkward for a second, but still pretty hot, and when they stumble out, wet and giggling, Blake pushes Yang down onto her already messy sheets and sucks Yang’s brains out through her clit, just because she can. 

Because Yang is very vocal that she wants her to. Because she looks really, really good when she cums, and Blake’s never thought that before. Because Yang’s hand tightens in her short choppy hair just enough for encouragement and not enough for a warning. 

When Yang leaves, she doesn’t say goodbye. She leaves her a note, with a number, full name, and a heart at the bottom. 

Blake rips it in half, and throws it out on her way to work, whistling all the way. 

She doesn’t expect to see Yang ever again. 

____ 

_Six Months Later_

It’s stupidly empty in Sephora today and Blake is feeling that 2 o'clock sleepiness hit her right over the head. She’s been wandering around the aisles straightening up shelves and trying to make eye contact with stragglers for the past hour, but _nothing_. No one’s asked her anything since she walked in and usually, that would be a blessing, but she’s been on her feet for five hours straight with nothing to keep her attention, so she’s both tired _and_ bored. 

It’s times like these she feels too old for retail. Let alone it gives her an opportunity to work in cosmetics, her feet get tired and her bones ache way more easily than the sprightly little teenagers ever could. Yes, she’s bitter. She’s 21, still broke as hell, and 17 being young and dangerously in love feels like a lifetime ago. 

She’s just contemplating braving the frigid Vale winds in just her cardigan for an untimely break when her phone starts buzzing in her pocket. Quickly, she slides it out and into her hand. It’s an unknown number and normally she wouldn’t answer it, but what the hey, she literally has nothing else to do, does she? 

“Hello?” She answers breezily as she walks out of the back door in the alley behind the shop for more privacy. 

“Hello?” The person on the line asks, voice sounding only vaguely familiar. 

“Hey, yeah, this is Blake,” She says, prompting the mouth-breather on the phone to speak about their business, as she checks the chipped polish on her fingernails. 

“Right, yeah, uh… this is Yang.” 

“Yang who?” She says because she doesn’t know any Yang’s. And certainly not one’s with a voice that sends an annoyingly familiar feeling bubbling up inside her, stretching tightly throughout her body. 

“Yang Xiao Long,” The person persists, and Blake feels her frown deepen. 

“I don’t know any–” 

“The girl you let stay over your place for three days about six months ago? We got to know each other _really_ well on pretty much every flat surface in your apartment.” 

Blake thinks for a second because, honestly, this person sounds like a nutcase. Three days? She would never let some strange woman stay in her apartment for- 

Oh. 

_Ohhhhh_. 

“Wait a minute, Yang? Yang, the army chick, Yang?” 

Her heart beats a little faster at the thought, pulse pounding frantically in her ears, and at her wrists. 

Fuck. 

_That_ _Yang_. 

“The Marines,” She chuckles, voice low and even, and even that brings back brief flashes of lightly tanned skin sprinkled healthily with freckles, sweat, and heat, and bodies sliding against each other, sweet and wet, and reckless. 

“…but yeah pretty much that Yang,” She says, dragging Blake’s mind back into the present moment. 

“Oh… um… wow. How did you, um…” She pauses to take a breath and kicks an empty soda can down the pavement. _Shit_ , why is she calling her? “Did you… you kept my number.” 

It comes out sounding almost accusing but she doesn’t mean it that way, not really. 

“I did at that,” Yang says smoothly, and Blake wishes she could see her face right now. 

“I didn’t keep yours,” She blurts out, unnecessarily. 

She doesn’t mean to, but the empty pauses feel way too long anyway, and seriously why is she calling her? Now of all times. 

“I figured. I’m off duty, though… officially. And wondered… fuck,” Yang mutters something under her breath that Blake surprisingly can’t hear, and she shifts the phone slightly in its perch on her shoulder so she can listen closer. 

“You wondered?” She prompts, inhaling much needed oxygen and trying not to jitter with impatience. 

“I just wanted to know if you’d like to get dinner with me sometime.” 

She says it so casually. It still blindsides her, like the broad side of a Mack truck. 

“Oh.” 

“Just dinner, nothing crazy. I just- I’m sticking around for a little while and our… thing before it was… well…” She stutters. It’s cute. Blake doesn’t want to think it, but her mind betrays her. 

“Dinner...,” Blake repeats, still stunned, but willing to play along. 

She doesn’t remember every detail of that glorious long weekend, but she remembers enough. She remembers soft, finger-smudge bruises the following Tuesday on her hips and thighs. Her body sore, but in that good-hurt kind of way like she just got well worked over by a masseuse she’s never had. And cooking in the mornings, feet and bellies bare, arms brushing against each other. Those images are still pretty clear to her. 

“Yeah, dinner. You know that meal after lunch, usually large, sometimes had with company…” Yang cajoles. 

Blake rolls her eyes because Yang can’t see. She remembers this part too, the mouthy little shit that Yang is. 

She’s still a little bit charmed. 

_Fucker._

“Yeah, when would this dinner happen, exactly?” She asks, teasing because this banter is kind of fun and Yang’s something else for even having the nerve in calling her in the first place. 

“Well… tonight I was hoping.” 

“ _Tonight_ ,” Blake repeats, incredulous. “Wait, but what if I have other plans?” 

“Do you?” 

“That’s beside the point. The point is that it’s rude to presume that I would be available on such short notice. If I had made plans-” 

“ _Did_ you make plans?” 

“That doesn’t matter-” 

“From my end, it’s the only thing that matters.” 

“You’re not hearing me,” Blake says, frustrated, crossing her arms and huffing. 

“No, I’m hearing you. Truthfully, it’s rude either way, whether you have plans or not, but if you don’t, we can go, so….” 

“No, I don’t have plans… but that doesn’t mean-” 

“Blake, it’s a free meal and some simple conversation. Worst case scenario we both walk away full and never speak again. Humor me,” Yang says, voice not quite pleading, just a shade to the left, and Blake doesn’t pretend it has no effect. Plus, Yang said her name. 

It sounds good, rolling off thick and heavy in that slightly husky tone. 

“Fine, okay,” She says, quickly, before she can change her mind. It’s one date, honestly. How bad could it be? “Yeah, okay, I… I get off at five.” 

“Great.” 

“But I’ll need time to get ready.” 

“I’ll pick you up at six.” 

“And to get home.” 

“Seven then.” 

“Make it seven-thirty.” 

“Done.” 

“And we have to go someplace nearby.” 

“Okay. That’s not a problem.” 

“And no Italian, I’m tired of Italian.” 

“Sure.” 

“Maybe this isn’t such–” 

“I’ll see you at seven-thirty.” 

Blake goes to hang up, but she remembers right before she does. “Hey! D-don’t you need my address?” 

“You still live in Vale?” 

“Yeah,” She says shortly. 

“Then I remember where it is.” 

Then there’s silence. And Blake’s left alone in the alley, her mind racing, her hands shaking, and her heart pounding painfully fast, threatening to break the fragile cage of aching bones keeping it safe. 

_A date._

_Fuck._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really know where this story is taking me. I'm just writing words and hoping for the best. It's gotten to be way bigger than I had planned and I can't really stop myself now. Enjoy!

Blake steps out of the shower carefully and wraps a dingy white towel around her body. She rings her hair out into the sink hurriedly, frowning at her tired reflection. Just as her eyes drift to the broken clock on the wall opposite the open bathroom door -- she stops remembering how it had been cracked in the first place with a force that had been so loud she can still hear the sound of shattering glass ringing in her ears. 

She’s running late. 

“Shit,” She says, scrambling to dry her body and hair at the same time as she pads to her closet for an ensemble. 

The sun is just setting, siphoning gently through her curtains, painting her walls in shades of burnished orange, and reflecting soft lilac shadows into the corners of the room. 

She’s nervous. 

Because for some strange reason she’s worried about seeing Yang again, even if she shouldn’t be. She feels she needs more time to think, to process and so she searches for the unsaved number in her phone and texts Yang she’ll meet her wherever they plan on eating at. 

Her hair is working its way toward dry even without the hairdryer and it’s relatively warm out, so she just takes her product and runs her fingers through it over and over until it looks shiny and luscious, and bouncy, the slight wildness in the look suddenly purposeful. Blake tilts her head slightly to the left focusing her efforts on creating the perfect smokey eye. 

Her outfit was... classy... sophisticated... and a little sexy. 

All black. 

Yang would appreciate that. 

...right? 

Oh boy. 

Blake rolls her eyes at herself in the mirror and grabs her clutch off her dresser to put in the necessities. 

She should _not_ be thinking about what Yang would appreciate. 

She groans beneath her breath, quickly unplugs her phone from the charger to put it in her purse when it suddenly started to vibrate in her hand. 

The caller ID lit up bright and pulsing, like the blood that was suddenly pounding through her veins. She gets an address and she’s out the door. 

____ 

When Blake pulls up to the front of a little Greek eatery on 1st Street, her first thought is that it smells good, she can practically feel a strong smell of meat, greens, and other ingredients of delicious Greek dishes. And she hadn’t realized how hungry she was in her haste to get ready, and the second is that she can spot Yang near the waiting room. 

Yang is leaning back against a bench all nonchalant, scrolling through her phone. 

The second Blake steps a little further into the restaurant is the same moment Yang spots her. It leaves Blake stuck. Too much needs to be said. All of it things she’s not sure she can even put into words. Her is heart pounding out a desperate, irregular rhythm against her ribcage. 

But Yang stands and smiles, big and bright. Honestly, Yang looks _good_ (really good). Better than Blake remembers. Ripped skinny jeans, bomber jacket, and silver dog tags hanging around her neck. 

Yang’s arms are sure and open, and Blake hesitates for appearances and then closes the space between them. 

Blake wraps her arms around Yang’s neck, tucks her face into skin and breathes. She shivers slightly at the scent of Yang, entirely overwhelmed by the soothing and cooling against all of her chafing, burning nerves. 

Hugging Yang like this feels different, and it makes her realize this kind of warmth not something she’s used to receiving. 

“Hey,” Yang murmurs into her ear and three particular days of memories threaten to strike her all at once. 

“Hey yourself...” She whispers against Yang’s skin, and she feels her muscles tighten, neck go taut, and then Yang’s pulling away, away, away. 

_Gods, please no._

But Blake allows for Yang to move back, the distance allows for her to think clearly. And she remembers that she’s technically not supposed to like Yang. That they were nothing more than fuck buddies because Yang was still in the Marines, coming and going as she pleased, it’s not a good idea for Blake to get attached. 

Like how it’s not a good idea for Blake to smirk when she follows the way Yang’s eyes trail quickly over her body. 

A small victory for that. 

_Wait._

“Let’s grab a table, yeah,” Yang says quietly like she doesn’t want to disturb the moment. 

The sky was a grayish purple, darkening with each passing moment. The restaurant was small and secluded, with half walls providing privacy. Blake feels her heart quicken as she notes the countless couples littering the area, talking intimately, and sharing glances with intent. 

Blake notices the small smile tugging at Yang’s lips, the wide swing of her arms, how her hand continues to bump against her own (it’s annoying) as they make their way towards their table. 

“Is this okay?” Yang asks, resting a hand against Blake’s back as she guides her to her chair. 

Blake nods. “Yeah. This place is beautiful.” She watches Yang carefully as she takes a seat across from her. Hell. She had yet to explain herself, explain all this. 

“Yeah, being here with you. This is nice.” 

“Oh...” Blake trails off, considering her words for a moment before putting herself back in check. _Shit._ “Yeah, um... this is nice.” 

And Yang just smiles completely unaffected by Blake’s words. Typical Yang, unaffected, unruffled, and unpredictable. “I’m glad.” 

She sounds sure. Solid. 

Blake envies Yang’s carefree nature and aura of complexity. Yang doesn’t need to know about Blake’s ribs feeling like rubber, or how she’s counting the beats of her pulse to keep her mind from running in circles. 

“Okay, so you brought me all the way out here without so much of a proper invite. So spill. What’s up?” 

“Well... I had a little free time, your name in my contacts list –with a star and so...” Yang begins, Blake suppresses the shiver racing up her spine, toying with the menu but listening as she speaks. “I mean, I love what I do and yeah, it’s a rollercoaster but I was just wondering what you were up to...?” 

“So, you just decided to call me up to what, seduce me out of my clothes with dinner and wine?” 

The accusation gets Yang to slightly sit up straighter, shaking her head. “Blake, I honestly just wanted to see how you’re doing.” She laughs, and Blake gets a weird feeling that she’s laughing at Blake’s guardedness. “I’m off duty for a few and I wanted to talk.” She admits. 

“Talk?” Blake questions in disbelief. “...we didn’t do much of that six months ago.” She says haughtily and Yang lets out a huff of nervous air. 

“Yeah.” She shrugs, confirming and looking a little dazed in the process. 

“Yang, what’s going on in that head of yours?” Blake asks curiously, wringing her hands together before their waiter interrupted, asking for ‘what they’d like to drink’. 

Yang orders a Scotch and takes a few seconds to answer Blake’s question from before. “Nothing.” 

“Mhmm.” Blake knows she should feel some semblance of annoyance, maybe enough to grab her things and storm out and yet... 

“I know... I know it’s a lot to process but I feel like there’s more to this besides the sex. And that maybe we could explore that. You know what I mean?” At this point Yang is rambling, her hurried words making her seem anxious. 

But the message is loud and clear. 

_Fuck_. It’s as clear as day. 

“-I get you.” Blake pauses for a moment. She opens her mouth to say something more but quickly closes it again. What was she supposed to say? 

“I know we’re kind of doing this backward but... I’m confident.” Yang says, swallowing hard. 

“Yeah,” Blake admits, biting slightly at the inside of her lip. “So... you’re saying you want to get to know me, like outside of the bedroom.” 

“Uh huh. I feel we can learn a bunch about each other. Ask me anything you want.” 

Oh no. This is different. Blake can feel it all the way down to the nerves in the tips of her fingers. It’s nothing like she’s ever understood. Such openness that Yang is allowing her, the contrast to what makes sense to her. Slammed doors, shouting voices... violence. This isn’t anything remotely close. It makes her feel weightless too, spun out and crazy with the fresh, dizzy-making newness of it all. 

“Alright, I’ll bite.” 

“Shoot.” 

“Ever killed a man?” 

The expression on Yang’s face is priceless. Blake bites down on the smile threatening to slip, but then Yang deflates, pulls up her napkin, and stares at Blake dead in her eyes –the heat beneath them sends Blake shifting in her seat against her best efforts– and says. 

“I could kill a man with just this piece of paper.” Blake hears Yang’s voice low and rough, but clear in the intent, and so _so_ beautiful. 

By the Gods when did her throat get so dry? 

She takes a larger than intended swig of her wine. 

“Sounds dangerous.” And cocky, and hot. 

“Trust me I’ve seen some things and sometimes I wish I hadn't. I-I still get flashes from combat but... yeah.” 

Blake lets out a heavy breath, sudden emotion catching in her chest. “Hey, it’s alright.” She knows the right thing to do would be to comfort Yang, there are a million ways to show it’s going to be okay she’s just not sure how to do that. 

“Hey, no need to dwell on it too much. I didn’t travel across the world to depress you.” Yang jokes half-heartedly. 

The rest of the night goes as according to the plan as it can. Blake learns that Yang doesn’t like vegetables unless they’re coated in some kind of sauce, and Blake tells Yang about how she once went a whole day without eating a meal in order to finish a really good novel series. 

It’s easier than it should be, to talk as if they’ve known each other for years. Eat and make wisecracks and never understand how a 3-day nightstand could shift into something with even _more_ potential. 

It was like as soon as Blake settled into a space of comfort with Yang, as soon as she got used to the constant butterflies, and the lighthearted bickering and teasing, and the way her skin ached for Yang’s touch, craving it, trying her hardest to calm the want behind a few drinks and laugh off the warmth. 

It feels like shit. 

And as Yang walks her to her apartment door, they stand awkwardly at the top of the stairs as Blake makes no effort to reach for her keys inside her clutch. 

“Uh, I had a lot of fun. A freaking blast actually.” 

Blake just nods. 

Their time together feels shortlived. 

Yang stands with her hands stuffed in her pockets, Blake’s eyes shift up trying to gauge her reaction, a twitch, words... anything. 

She’s not even sure Yang wants anything to happen, that Yang wants _her_. 

Yang leans forward, tilts her head, and leaves a chaste kiss on Blake’s cheek, and when she pulls back –not all the way, their gaze lingers. There’s something strong coursing throughout Blake, with the way her heart beats out a rhythm frantic and uneven like it can’t quite stay steady with Yang near because it’s waiting for... 

Yang’s amethyst eyes trace Blake’s lips and blink, and when she reopens them, they’re a touch darker. 

“Goodnight, Blake.” 

Already Yang is turning away. 

Leaving. 

“Wait,” Blake says quietly, grabbing hold of Yang’s hand. 

Yang’s eyes flick to their hands and then back to Blake’s face. 

“ _Stay._ ” 

____

Blake examines the fresh red marks that snake down from her neck to the valley of her breasts, touches her thumbs to the smudges of fingertips at her wrists, and follows the pattern of red crescents that curve across her hipbones. She hadn’t realized Yang been so heavy-handed last night _and_ this morning. 

Blake wants to be upset about her lack of self-restraint. How easy it was to become so _lost_ in the heat of it. 

Well technically speaking... both of them had been a little… eager. 

She feels Yang’s arms come around her waist from behind and lets her tuck herself into every curve of her body, let’s Yang fill all her empty spaces. 

She tucks her chin over Blake’s shoulder, and purple eyes (where did that red color go?) follow the same path hers just have. She can see the heat in Yang’s gaze, feel it when her body goes slightly taut against hers, even though they’ve both just come, even though she’s barely standing because of the sex they just had. 

True to form, though, Yang’s first comment isn’t _do you want to do it again_ , but… 

“Did I hurt you?” She asks softly, whispering the words against the bruise free side of her neck, and trailing both hands down from Blake’s belly to her forearms. 

Yang’s fingers touch when they manacle her wrists softly. 

Blake shivers. 

“Not in any way that I didn’t want you to,” She says with one eyebrow raised as she stares back at Yang in the mirror. 

Her paler skin, freckled in patches, the long scar that trails along her right arm, the muscles that strain underneath her skin, the lethal strength behind them. All of it looks lovely next to hers. They look lovely together, like lovers, standing here naked, wrapped up in each other. 

Yang laughs lightly, the lines in her forehead smooth away but Blake’s forgotten what they were talking about. 

“Huh?” 

She just smiles. 

“You’re perfect like this,” Yang says, drawing both their wrists up in the air and holding them there. She drags her eyes across Blake’s naked, bruised body, and bites her lip with a faraway look on her face. 

“Absolutely perfect and I... nevermind...” 

Blake shivers again, because she can’t not at the tone of Yang’s voice, at the naked praise, at the utter mess that her body is right now. 

Every inch of her skin feels marked, like the capillaries beneath have been broken and the space is swollen with nothing but Yang. Just Yang underneath her skin, Yang inside of her, Yang behind her, around her, keeping her grounded and safe, and here. 

Here because Yang isn’t leaving. 

Not anytime soon. 

“...” 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blake leaves Yang in canon. We all know this so instead I want to put my own spin on how it would be if the roles were reversed. It was a little difficult to write, along with the tone and style but I'm all for challenging myself so hopefully, this is something... a very angsty something.

_Three Months Later_

Yang is an asshole. 

Seriously. 

In what world did anyone think it was possible to just mosey their way into someone’s life –unannounced just to disappear again without so much as a goodbye. What was so difficult for Yang to not give Blake the heads up that she may or may not be sticking around like she initially said she would be? 

After their date, Yang hadn’t even stuck around longer than a week. 

Duty or not it’s still the _principal_. 

Gods the thought still rings in the back of her mind and her eyes squint at the numbers. 

And Blake is in the dairy aisle, sifting through cheeses to see which is most on sale, and what yogurt dates look like this week for the 10/10 deal. She’s in leggings and a V-neck, her hair out and slightly tousled, and she knows the bags underneath her eyes are visible as fuck because she made absolutely no effort to hide them this morning. 

Yet and still, Yang is next to her, all 5′9 of carved muscle and artfully ripped jeans, fresh out of the shower, post-26 hour plane ride. She _should_ be crashing on Blake’s couch, dead to the world for the next day and a half, but instead, she had asked for a quick shower and to go with her to the grocery store. And for whatever gods-forsaken reason, Blake let Yang tag along. 

Blake’s tired, having worked a 50 hour week to make ends meet, and she’s a little unreasonably irritable. Yang must sense it because she’s quiet, and her presence is soothing… calming. The fact that Yang notices makes Blake twitchy with the worry that _she_ notices these things. 

Her attention to detail is unlike anything Blake has ever seen. 

And yet Yang’s communication skills suck. 

Blake doesn’t ask Yang for help finding anything or reading off the list. She has a system that she’s used to, and Yang doesn’t seem in any rush, so Blake goes at her normal pace, checking things off, picking things up and putting them back when she looks at the cart and thinks she may have things she doesn’t really need. 

By the time they get to the checkout, Yang’s got a few things in her hands, bananas, almonds, carrots, but she lets Blake get in line first and order her things on the conveyor belt the way she likes to. 

“How are you today, Ma’am,” The bored teenager at the register drones out between loud smacks of gum. 

“Fine, and you?” Blake mumbles, frowning absently as she puts things onto the conveyor belt. She hates when they try and talk to her. 

“Find everything okay?” 

She sighs and nods. “Yup.” 

_Clack Click Clack_

_“_ That’ll be fifty-four thirty-three,” Gum girl says, and Blake’s stomach clenches just slightly. It’s not more than she expected but it’s more than she wanted to spend. 

The cost of living in this city, _seriously_. 

She grudgingly slides her debit card and punches in her pin with a little too much force. 

_NOT APPROVED_

Flashes in front of her face in big, bold, red lettering. She takes a quick breath, surprised and her gut clenches just that little bit tighter. 

The cashier tells her to swipe again, though. 

“This happens all of the time.” 

Blake just breathes out slowly, nodding, and does as she’s told. 

_NOT APPROVED_

There it goes again, and her heart is officially beating too fast, her palms a little sweaty. She’s not going to make a big deal out of this though, honestly. People put shit back all the time, it’s… it’s fine. 

Blake hands the cashier back a few odds and ends to put back on the shelves. She’s certain she has peanut butter anyway, she was just trying to be responsible and get it before she ran out. No big deal. 

“Everything okay?” Yang says, looking up from her phone, laser focus in those lilac eyes. And Blake feels like that gaze is burning _through_ her skin and bones, to the warm, squishy, soft parts underneath. 

Blake nods brusquely, her heart still pounding furiously. “Fine.” 

“New total is 39.43,” The cashier says, and her tone has an edge that it didn’t have before as more people get in line behind them. 

Blake runs her card again, holding her breath this time, but knowing that there’s no way that it won’t go through. It’s got to, she knows she has- 

_NOT APPROVED_

The words swim in front of Blake’s face again, flashing once, twice, three times, like a red beacon of reproach, and she notices with some detachment that her hands are shaking. She looks behind her helplessly and sees that three people have gotten in line. 

Her stomach sinks, she can feel her cheeks get warm, and she kind of wants to throw up. 

“A-are you sure, because-” 

“I’m sorry,” The girl says, handing Blake her card back, pity drawn into every line of her face. 

“Y-you know what, that’s okay I’ll-,” Go home, Blake begins to say. Go check my bank account. Go figure out what’s going on. Go _something_ other than stand here like an idiot, mouth gaping, ears almost buzzing with the sudden loudness of the registers around her. 

The fluorescent lights overhead are burning down on her in bright, hot judgment, and she’s fumbling out her phone, trying to check her bank account online (and what is her fucking password?), when she hears a smooth, low voice say. 

“I got it.” 

Yang’s hand comes out of nowhere to settle on to Blake’s shoulder, and she shoves her over just a little to offer her card to the cashier. 

“You can just put it all together,” Yang says, dumping her few items onto the conveyor belt and gesturing to Blake’s bags already in her cart. 

Blake feels a hot, sharp, jolt of _panic_ in her chest and catches Yang’s hand before the card reaches its destination. 

“No!” 

Yang’s eyes slide to Blake’s and she raises one eyebrow calmly. “It’s not a big deal,” She says, shrugging carefully. Blake can see in her face that she’s hiding something. 

“No, y-you don’t,” She breathes in. Then out. “You don’t have to do that. I got it. I can -I’ll check my bank account and put something back, I’ll-” 

“Blake, it’s no problem, okay?” Yang says shaking her hand free of Blake’s limp grasp and nudging her hip with Blake’s side. 

Yang’s gaze softens. 

“You can pay me back later,” She says easily. 

_No, I can’t,_ something inside her rails. But she doesn’t yell at Yang the way she wants to because now there are six people in line behind them, all sneaking pointed glances at her and the food, and the cart, and she just wants to get out of there _now._

Yang’s groceries don’t take long at all, and Blake’s got her stuff, and she’s headed to the car before Yang even gets handed the receipt, slender legs eating up the asphalt between the grocery doors and Yang’s stupid yellow, fucking sedan. 

When Blake drops the bags into the back seat, and the liter of Sunflower Pop tips over, she grinds her teeth but sits it back up against the door, knowing it’ll be a bitch to open, otherwise. 

Blake slams the passenger door nice and hard when she gets in, just the way Yang hates it. 

There is nothing said on the road from the store to her apartment, and Yang’s eyes never leave the road in front of and behind her. Her hands never leave ten and two. 

When they get to Blake’s place, Blake stomps up three flights of steps, Yang hot on her heels, and hangs one of the lighter grocery bags from her teeth as she opens the door to her apartment. She makes a beeline for the kitchen, starts putting stuff away in order of most to least perishable foods. 

It takes Yang around ten minutes to speak up. 

“Blake-” 

“I don’t want to hear it, Yang.” She says, her voice low and even. 

It truly is an accomplishment because she’s burning up inside, stomach squirming uncomfortably and eyes prickling slightly with tears she refuses to let fall. 

Gods, _what the fuck was that?_

“Blake, honestly, it’s not that big of a deal,” Yang wheedles, stepping into her tiny kitchen with open arms and apology plastered onto her face. 

“I said I had it handled.” 

“But you _didn’t_.” 

“I said I’d check my account.” 

“Evidently there wasn’t enough-” 

“I would’ve put something back,” Blake says, swinging a cupboard closed with one trembling hand. 

“Yeah, but now, you don’t have t-” 

“I _said_ I had it handled!” And this time her voice cracks. The sound of the spaghetti sauce jar hitting the fake marble counter echoes sharply through her small apartment. 

Her eyes meet Yang’s, and her gaze _burns_ , it _burns._

_“_ Why are you here?” She asks, almost to herself, head shaking a little in utter confusion. 

“Did you want me to go?” Yang asks back, eyebrows high and hurt creeping into the edges of her eyes. 

“No, I just… why are you _here_?” 

“I thought you wanted me here.” 

“That doesn’t answer my question.” 

“I’m on leave, I’m- I don’t-” 

Blake sighs heavily, running a slow hand across her hair and tucking a stray curl behind her ear. 

“Whatever… nevermind.” Blake tries to go back to putting away groceries, but an insistent hand around her forearm keeps her from grabbing the next item. 

When she shoots a look up at Yang, her grip loosens, but she doesn’t let go. 

And it still reminds her of the difference between Yang’s safety compared to _his_. 

“What do you want me to say, Blake? Tell me and I’ll say it.” Yang huffs out a breathy chuckle, “I got to admit, I’m a little lost, here.” 

“Nothing,” Blake says twisting her arm and turning her head. Just… trying to get some space. 

“Clearly you do, or you wouldn’t be being so damn angry right now. Come on, look at me. What is this?” Yang says, moving further into Blake’s space. 

“Nothing, Gods, I’m stressed, it’s hot as fuck outside, I’m _exhausted_ , just leave it the fuck alone Yang.” 

“While all those things are true, I’m sure, I know that isn’t what this is about.” 

Yang’s tone is calm, and her body is unwavering, and Blake’s starting to actually struggle just a bit because she won’t fucking _move_. 

“Yang, I swear you just...,” Blake says, and even she can hear the edge of panic in her tone, how breathy and shaky her voice is. She’s just so _angry,_ and Yang’s just- 

Blake struggles harder, twisting enough that her arm starts to hurt from the angle, and Yang lets go, but it doesn’t feel like a win or freedom or anything like that at all because she’s still _burning_ through her with those eyes and- 

“Blake-” 

“Why do you stay? Why do you come back? Why are you _here_? Fuck, Yang, _why are you here_?” 

Blake spits it out like razor blades, the words scraping raw and misshapen against her throat. Her breath is ragged. 

She _hates_ Yang, she _hates_ Yang for this. 

Yang looks a little taken aback, her eyes wide, but she recovers quickly, sliding that military mask back on easy as you please. Master of the poker face, Miss Yang Xiao Long everybody. 

“Why do you think?” Yang asks, tone dripping with innuendo, and smile smarmy enough to grease a baking pan. 

Lies, it’s all lies, but she goes with it because she’s not a fucking mind reader and if this is what Yang’s saying then it’s what she means. 

“You just come here to fuck?” Blake asks, disbelieving. And her hands are _still_ shaking, Fucking damn it. “You come back to this shitty apartment, with no cable, bad pipes, and no food,” She stomps into the living room, and bumps into the sofa. 

“You sit on my twelve-year-old, yard-sale bought couch every day, and wait for me to come home. You follow me to the damn grocery store and _pay_ when my card gets declined, just because of the sex?” 

Blake pushes at Yang’s chest a little and she’s yelling now, no more whispering for her, no sir. She knows the neighbors can hear through her thin as fuck walls, but she doesn’t care. She’s always been effervescent in her anger. If there’s anything she was _ever_ good at, it was getting pissed off. Well, that and making a _spectacular_ mess of things, then running away from said messes. 

“No pussy is _that_ good Yang. And there’s _plenty_ of it to be had elsewhere. And it’s not like you’ve ever had a problem drawing attention whenever we’re out. What’s stopping you?” 

Blake’s words keep pushing, and she’s pushing, and she sees Yang’s jaw working as Blake hurls everything she’s held since waking up to an empty bed at Yang, and then sees those biceps tense, showing briefly beneath smooth, freckled skin. 

Blake _hates_ how much she wants Yang, even now. 

“I’m starting to wonder myself,” Yang rumbles lowly. 

“Good,” Blake bites out, sharp and firm like a slap to the face. “Great, well when you figure it out, you give me a call.” 

Blake steps to the side just enough to bump Yang’s shoulder with hers as she makes her way back to the kitchen. “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out, you jerk,” She calls behind her, refusing to look back. 

Blake doesn’t hear the door slam, but her ears are buzzing loud enough that she doubts she’d hear anything quieter than a marching band at this point. 

_Fuck._

Blake puts her head in her hands and closes her eyes, breaths like sobs escaping her too tight chest. What the _fuck_ is wrong with her? 

It’s ten minutes until she gets all of the groceries away, wiping salt trails off her face with her sleeves, and pacing the kitchen floor in anxious self-loathing. 

When she finally drags herself back into the main area of the apartment, about to make her way into her room to shower and crash in her bed, just as too big, and too cold as it was the night before, Yang is sitting in the living room on her shitty couch staring at the blank TV screen. 

Blake stops suddenly, taking a quick breath in and curling her fingers into the excess fabric of her tights. She stares but Yang doesn’t turn around. 

She could have sworn she heard Yang leave. 

“I come back because I miss you when I’m gone,” Yang says almost too quietly to be heard. 

“I come back because I’ve seen how hard you work the three jobs that you hate. And how good you are with little kids, and how your face lights up when you’ve got a good book in your hand.” 

“I come back because… you’ve got the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen, and when you get angry it’s like setting light to a fire in a dark night.” 

“I come back because you make me laugh, and you back down to no one, and stand up for what you believe in. Trust me it’s hot.” 

Yang holds out a hand to her, and Blake shuffles over to her to take it. When Yang pulls her gently into her lap, she goes numbly. 

“I come back because you’re _crazier_ than anyone I have ever met,” And Blake flinches back a little at that, but Yang tips her chin, not even letting Blake look away when she says, “and I’m crazier about you than I’ve ever been about anyone I have ever met.” 

Blake watches Yang’s face when she says it and the mask is nowhere to be found. Her eyes burn… and she thinks maybe Yang’s more open now than she’s ever seen before. She takes a breath and settles into Yang’s lap a little more heavily, eyes wide and locked to lilac. 

“Okay,” Blake breathes. “That’s good.” 

Yang nods and laughs just a little, mouth curling up on one side as she brushes a thumb across Blake’s left cheekbone. 

“Do I have to go still?” Yang murmurs, eyes going big and warm, and sticky sweet. 

Gods, _never_. Blake sighs like it’s all one huge inconvenience. “You can stay.” 

Blake can’t quite keep the smile off her face when Yang kisses her, slanting her mouth over Blake's, and Blake feels a rush jolt through her body as she pushes closer. She hasn't been this close to Yang in what feels like forever, and with the way Yang is so _responsive,_ like the way she forces Blake's legs apart so she can tug Blake's body even closer, the desperation of it has Blake's chest swell so full that she feels as though she's about eight seconds from bursting. And as cheesy as that may sound, it was absolutely the truth. 

“You _do_ still have to pay me back, though,” Yang mouths against her lips, and Blake feels no remorse at all for the sharp bite she gives in retaliation. 

Yang may still be an asshole, but Blake thinks she’ll keep her around. 

Definitely. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! That's a wrap. I hope you all enjoyed reading. I wrote this to kind of get me back into a groove and now I'm already working on another AU. Love you guys and stay safe!!! <3


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